


Memories and Identity are one of the same

by DashingFox



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dark Magic, F/M, M/M, Memory Loss, Nightmares, Revelations Spoilers, Slow Burn, after about 3 years of writers block im writing again, awakening and hidden truths spoilers, robin!owain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8251267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DashingFox/pseuds/DashingFox
Summary: "It's good to see you're feeling better, Owain."Odin frowns at the foreign name."Who?"***An attack meant for Leo lands on his loyal retainer, and the army slowly realises that there's more to Odin than his loud and theatrical front.





	1. Warning

It’s a clear day and his father is smiling down at him, all white teeth and kind eyes. Owain thinks that it’s almost out of character the way his dimples push at his cheeks. He commands his numb arm to touch his father’s face, to check to see if this is real, but his hand is too far and he can’t reach. Even stretching out his fingers doesn’t cut it and his father’s smile drops and settles on a scowl, his eyes shining a ferocious red and his face twisting horrifically. As the bones begin to protrude from already sharp cheekbones, Owain yanks back his hand in fear.

 

Owain remembers this version of his father the most; the beast that stole everything and destroyed all he had ever held dear.

 

He’s suddenly crouching next to his cousin. Her blue hair is oily and tangled, her skinny arms struggle to raise Chrom’s ancient sword above her knees. There’s something he should be doing but he can’t take his eyes off her greasy, dirt-smeared face and dull eyes. He wants to tell her she’s strong, stronger than he’ll ever be, that she’s what make his legendary stories a reality, but nothing comes out of his mouth.

 

Owain thinks things can’t get worse, but they do.

 

He’s standing over his mother’s grave, broken staff in hand and all alone. The sky is a horrendous smattering of black, grey and red, making him think that maybe there was no way to win this war and save his broken world. Lucina  is nowhere in sight and neither are his companions. Fear creeps insidiously up his fingers and into his shoulders.

 

Owain takes a shaky breath of tasteless air and softly grazes his mother’s tombstone with a fingertip. He can’t feel anything and it doesn’t register that that should be wrong. There’s raised writing and rough cement and it only just occurs to him that he doesn’t remember his mother ever having a tombstone.

 

He looks up and comes face to face with red eyes. Robin’s arms are crossed and he titters as if he owns the knowledge of a hundred galaxies.

 

“Poor child, you have no idea.” His father’s voice sounds as though it had scratched its way out of his throat and Owain flinches. “No clue of how to live up to your fated blood.”

 

Owain takes a step back, his father towering over him like vulture with its eyes on the prize.

 

“Grima could have cured your dirty blood,, but you chose to live a life of lies and masks.” Those eyes burn his skin, guttural voice filling his ears with the sound of high pitched screaming and Owain feels himself falling backwards in an attempt to escape.

 

“Brace yourself son, repentance is coming and no matter how fervently you pray I will not be there to save you.”

 

Owain’s back hits the grass and he jolts awake in his quarters. He’s shaking, grimy with sweat and panting hard. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness but he recognises his bed, his collection of humbly named treasures laid out on his dresser and the magic tome clutched to his chest. He heaves a deep breath and closes his eyes.

 

_Just a dream. Just a dream._

 

It’s been a while since Odin’s had such a vivid dream. He remembers waking up almost every night during the first war because of night terrors. He’d hoped that time would heal that wound and it had for several years, but evidently not tonight.

 

Carefully placing the tome on his bedside table, Odin hunches over and rubs his eyes in a vain attempt to rid himself of the dream. Lucina is strong and she is safe as always back home. His mother is alive and well back home. His father is kind, compassionate, brave, and intelligent, nothing like his dream or that beast he turned into.

 

They are _all_ safe and alive and well.

 

Odin sighs and flops backwards onto his bed, exhausted but wide awake. He knows it was just a dream but for some reason his father’s words echo around his head. If it weren’t so frightening, Odin would probably think that line about repentance was pretty cool, but it does nothing but flash forebodingly across his mind’s eye.

 

He rolls over onto his side and lays quietly for a while before giving up on sleep and shoving the thin sheets off with a huff. Trying his best not to bump into his bedside table, Odin shuffles around his room to his dresser. He grabs the closest shirt he can find and haphazardly throws it on, leaving his suffocating room behind him.

 

The moon is bright, beams of white light filtering through the windows of the corridor. Odin creeps at a snail pace along the floorboards, highly aware that they creak and any noise as loud as a pin dropping would wake Niles. Honestly Odin isn’t particularly in the mood to deal with his nosy partner in crime right now, so he doesn’t mind the slow journey.

 

He takes a deep breath of fresh air once he reaches the courtyard. The cold pavement is strangely comforting under his bare feet and Odin takes a moment to enjoy the gentle breeze brushing against his cheeks.

 

Glancing over to the garden, he sees a shadowy figure leaning casually against the balcony railing. For a second his heart jolts into his throat with fear, but then the person shifts slightly into the light, surveying the dark expanse of the castle grounds, and Odin immediately recognises them.

He goes to clear his throat and throw a hand out in true heroic form, but stops abruptly when he sees the shoulders of the lone man shake gently. Muffled sobs escape him and Odin is caught off guard with the way the moonlight bounces off his face, making his tears sparkle and his soft face even softer.

 

It’s an odd feeling, Odin thinks, to be both heartbroken at the display of sadness and drawn to him at the same time.

 

_Odd indeed._

 

His heart beats a little faster as he makes a step towards his oldest friend, signalling his presence and causing the other man to spin around, horror and panic on his tear-streaked face. In the stunned silence that follows,  Odin almost thinks approaching him was a mistake.

 

“Odin…” Laslow says and his voice is croaky with phlegm. He hastily wipes his face and sighs and Odin feels like he can sympathise. It’s been an awful night.

 

Odin walks carefully over to his friend and places a hand on his shoulder. He can feel the warmth of Laslow’s skin underneath his thin tunic, but chooses not to think about it.

 

“What ails you, my accomplice-slash-nemesis?” Odin asks, keeping his voice lower than usual. He’s dealt with crying Laslow on many occasions and he knows that he needs to tone down his normal exuberance. Odin learned very quickly that a panicked Laslow can run faster than a wild horse.

 

Laslow sighs again and sniffles. It’s actually quite disgusting. Odin decides now isn’t the right time to tell him that there’s a bit of snot under his nose he hasn’t wiped away yet.

 

“I’m glad it’s you that found me, old friend, and not someone else. I don’t know whether I’d be able to live down that shame,” Laslow begins and Odin feels his shoulders relax under his hand. He takes his hand back and gives Laslow a moment to compose himself. They lean against the railing of the balcony side by side in a silence that is uncharacteristic for the both of them, but so familiar as well.

 

“We go to war tomorrow, Odin,” Laslow says eventually. Odin turns to look at him. Laslow is gazing up at the stars, face pale and boyish as ever. It’s dangerous to think that he looks breathtaking at this moment, that if Laslow weren’t crying a moment ago, Odin would be at loss for words. He mentally shakes the distracting thoughts away and turns away, propping up his elbows on the railing and looking up at the night sky as well. “I know we have a duty to protect our Lords and save this world, but I don’t know if I want to die for _this_ war.”

 

Laslow sniffs again and Odin looks back at him in fear that he’ll start crying once more.

 

“We’ve fought for so long, and I’m scared this is going to be the end of the road, if not for me but for you or Selena or Lord Xander or Peri. I know it makes me a coward but I’m terrified.” Laslow lets his head drop and Odin feels his heart break for him.

 

He knows the feeling, though. He cares deeply for a lot of people here and they’d forged bonds that wouldn’t be easily forgotten, but they’d fought tooth and nail for their homeland to rest in peace. It wouldn’t feel right to die in another world without a word to their family or old companions and for a land that wasn’t theirs.

 

Odin doesn’t even want to think about what he’d do if he lost Laslow or Selena to this war.

 

He takes a deep breath, mentally selecting an appropriate monologue to fit what he wants to say but Laslow does that pained face he often does at Odin’s inspiring words and Odin deflates a little. He decides to settle for a simpler approach and bumps their shoulders together.

 

“You won’t be dying in this world Laslow. Not while you’ve got stories to tell and me alive and at your side,” Odin says and grins. Laslow gives him a searching look  before cracking a hesitant smile.

 

“Yeah,” he says simply and Odin frowns.

 

 _That’s not what he wants to hear, idiot_ _._

 

“Laslow,” Odin says and it’s loud enough to cut through the tension that has settled around them. Laslow looks at him with a bit of shock but Odin snatches his hand, gripping it tightly.

 

“I promise you I will not die in this war. I’m not done with this life just yet and as heroic as it would be to die for my liege on the battlefield, I have friends and family to live for.” He squeezes Laslow’s hand for extra emphasis. There’s a moment of quiet where Laslow just looks at him as if expecting more until his face morphs into a genuinely happy and innocent smile. Odin grins in response, knowing full well that that smile is only reserved for people Laslow cares for.

 

“When you’re not spouting nonsense, you actually sound quite normal,” Laslow quips, laughing at Odin’s huff of indignation. He can’t help but join in now that the mood had lightened and dawns on him he’s still holding Laslow’s hand. The realisation must have occurred at the same time for Laslow because their eyes meet and they break the contact with rushed apologies and blushing cheeks.

 

They go back to listening to the peaceful night but it only lasts a couple of minutes before Laslow breaks it again.

 

“What are you doing up so late?” he asks. Odin’s dream flashes before his eyes, reminding him of dirty blood and repentance. He closes his eyes and wills it away.

 

“Nightmare,” he says. Laslow nods in understanding. Odin isn’t the only one suffering with them. “This one was particularly nasty.”

 

Laslow doesn’t say anything and Odin assumes it’s because he’s waiting for him to elaborate. He grins instead, giving Laslow a slap on the back and straightening up. “Alas, my friend, I think that’s enough excitement for one night. Perhaps we may meet again under the eyes of the bright moonlight.” He stretches and yawns. Even if he didn’t talk about his own fears, just talking to Laslow is enough to relax himself enough to sleep.

 

“Good night, Laslow of the Indigo Skies.” Odin finishes with a flourish of his hand and goes to pose powerfully, but his bare foot drags painfully across the pavement and he stubs his toe. He tries his very best not to cry out in pain by biting down on his lip, but Laslow witnesses it anyway and starts to cackle. Odin scowls and spins on his heel to go back inside. He hears Laslow’s laughter behind him and a dramatic, “Good night, Odin Dork,” but refuses to acknowledge him.

 

It’s not till he’s back inside and sneaking back to his room that he smiles at knowing he’d made Laslow feel better.

 

His dream is totally forgotten for the time being.

 

***

 

It’s raining like usual in Nohr when they step foot into the small town. Lord Leo trots ahead on his horse, back straight even in the heavy rain. Niles is beside him, bow out and seemingly relaxed but shoulders tense. Odin trails behind the two with his hand on his tome and eyes squinted in an attempt to see through the rain.

 

The mission was simple enough, scout the town for survivors and provide them shelter and aid. The town had been decimated by King Garon in a fit of rage upon finding out his two sons had escaped his venomous clutches. Odin remembers quite well Lord Leo’s disgust at the news.

 

His lord’s decision to trust in his siblings was a choice Odin would forever be grateful for. His alias demanded him to fight and kill on command—something he hated to do. He knew that Garon’s ruling was wrong and that the people he was ordered to kill were almost always innocent or deserving of smaller punishments. Odin had tried his best to convince his lord to be lenient, but sometimes it wouldn’t be enough.

 

Odin remembers his very first kill as a teenager and he will never forget every death caused by his hand after that.

 

The wind picks up and blows his cloak violently to the side, exposing his mesh undershirt to the cold rain. He wrenches his cloak back and shivers as the rain drips down his neck and onto his back. Perhaps a heavier cloak would have been better for this weather, but Odin reminds himself that he has his mysterious dark mage persona to uphold and it makes the misery worth it.

 

Lord Leo stops abruptly and holds up a hand to signal Odin to do the same. He’s still for a moment, seemingly listening or observing something and Odin takes a step forward to see what has gotten his Lord’s attention.

 

 A building explodes right in front of them and Odin is sent flying backwards, shrapnel and splinters and light blasting through the damp air.

 

His head hits the brick road, black spots bloom across his vision and his whole world spins. He vaguely registers through the stabbing pain in his head that Lord Leo’s horse has panicked and thrown its rider off its back. The horse bolts and his Leo is left struggling to get up as more explosions go off around them. Niles is in front of them, bow loaded and letting loose silver arrows through the commotion in an effort to protect them. His lord is still on the ground and Odin pushes through the haze to get to his side.

 

His lord’s face is pale and scrunched up in pain, his arms are wrapped around his torso and Odin suspects he’s broken a couple of ribs. The sound of fighting gets louder and Odin scrambles to get a vulnery potion out of his belt pocket before they become overwhelmed. He helps his lord shuffle over to the wall of an old house and Leo gasps before tilting his head to throw up. Odin hurries to sit him up straight and shoves the vulnery into Lord Leo’s line of sight.

 

“Milord, do you need me to help or can you drink this by yourself?” Odin knows too well that if he doesn’t get permission then his lord’s pride would be on the line and Leo treasures his pride a lot more than other things. He nods and shakily reaches out to take it from Odin’s hands. The lid is already popped off and he drinks it easily, nodding one more time before pushing himself off the ground while Odin steadies him.

 

“Thank you, Odin,” his lord manages to say before Niles is running over at them with a dark and foreboding look on his face.

 

“Milord, I pushed them back as far as I could but it’s only a matter of minutes before their reinforcements arrive,” he reports.

 

Leo scowls. Odin knows what he’s thinking; that this was an ambush likely plotted by one of the King’s smarmy tacticians in the hopes they’d be able to take out a few precious members of Corrin’s small army. The thought that they’d destroy a town just to plan an ambush is disgusting and Odin clenches his fists in anger.

 

“We need to leave. There’s nothing left here for us to salvage,” Lord Leo says, effectively cutting through Odin’s thoughts. The pain in his head suddenly resurfaces and Odin almost thinks he’s going to throw up as well before Niles huffs and shoves a concoction into his hands.

 

There’s no time for pleasantries or thanks as they rush through the destroyed town in search of an exit. Odin gulps down the concoction and puts the empty bottle in his belt pocket for later, but his eyes catch something in a nearby rooftop. The building is a wreck and the roof is barely there but Odin sees him. He sees the way the man flips an unseen tome open and picks his target easily.

 

Niles must have seen him as well because he’s shouting warnings to take cover.

 

The air fills with electricity and Odin feels the hairs on his arms rise as the man releases the spell. It’s an odd mixture of purple and white and it seems to sizzle through the air towards Lord Leo.

 

Odin doesn’t have time to think about his promise to Laslow last night about no sacrifices, not when it’s his lord’s life counting on it. They’re the kind of pretty words that Odin loves so much, but he doesn’t have the time to live up to them and for that he feels truly awful.

 

_Laslow will understand._

_…I hope._

 

Without hesitation he’s pushing his lord out of the way and it almost feels like slow motion as the spell burns his arm. He can feel fire in his veins as it races up his shoulder and straight to his head. The previous injury is a splinter in comparison. He screams and clutches his head, vision blurred by dull, pulsing red.

 

A hand is gripping his shoulder and he hears the sound of an arrow whistle past his ear, but there’s too much pain to focus on what’s actually happening. He falls to his knees, hands clamped over his ears as he struggles to stay upright.

 

_Dark magic. It’s dark magic._

His shoulders are shoved and he thinks he recognises Lord Leo in front of him but his voice is muffled and he can’t figure out what he’s saying.

 

There are flashes of memories suddenly resurfacing, small things he thought he’d forgotten. His father and mother are dancing in his room to a tune his mother is singing. He’s laughing with Brady and Inigo until he pushes Inigo into the pond and jumps in straight after, dragging Brady with him. He’s sword fighting with his cousin and uncle till they’re sweaty, exhausted and sprawled out in a field.

 

They disappear as quickly as they’d appeared and Odin feels like is brain is being fried.

 

_I’m gonna pass out…_

Whatever moment of clarity Odin has is immediately overrun with a burst of agony from his eyes that rushes to the back of his neck.

 

Odin cries out once more before everything goes black.


	2. Owain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin? 
> 
> That's such a cool name!

The sun is high in the sky and Owain is lying flat on his back with an arm over his eyes. He always loves this time of day, the sun warming his pale skin and tinting his white hair with a bit of gold. Brady always fussed over him when he’d come home with even the lightest shade of red and Owain cringes at the thought of the earful he is most likely going to receive. 

 

Sitting up, Owain sighs and takes in a deep breath of fresh air. He’s missed this air, it brings back fond and hard memories. In this moment however, it just reminds him of a land he helped save. 

 

There’s the sound of crunching leaves and Owain spins around in his seated position to see his father. He’s younger, white hair still fluffy and eyes still sparkling and Owain grins as his heartbeat slows down. 

 

“May I sit down?” He asks a bit shyly which only makes Owain laugh. 

 

“Of course, but be wary Father, my sword hand is at rest for the time being but who knows when it will awaken,” Owain says and grips his right wrist for emphasis. His father eyes him warily for a moment before chuckling and taking a seat on the grass next to him. 

 

They’re sitting on a decent sized hill, one that overlooks the city and is surrounded by healthy vegetation. Owain found the spot in the future, except then it wasn’t as pleasant as it is now. He feels a swell of pride in knowing that he helped to save this world. 

 

“What do you plan to do with yourself now Owain?” Father asks and Owain frowns a little.

 

“To be honest I haven’t thought that far,” he laughs and looks down at his hands. It’s the truth. Plans for the future was the furthest thing on his mind whilst at war. Owain was half expecting to be fighting his whole life. 

 

His father hums thoughtfully and leans back on his palms.

 

“When I first woke up in a field not much different from this one, I was pretty much thrown into a war that I didn’t understand and fighting with people I didn’t really know. I wasn’t thinking about the future either until we won the first time.” He laughs at something, a memory and shakes his head. “Chrom was a disaster whenever he had to look after Lucina by himself and he always asked for my help for some reason. I didn’t know what to do with a baby so we both didn’t really star in that field.

 

“But I got asked to help around with small raids and I even got a job outside of the army. I was a lot busier than I thought I would be and I only had a small amount of memories to call my own.” He pauses and glances at Owain with a smile. 

 

“My point is that you’re a skilled and intelligent young man Owain, I don’t doubt you will find your calling before long. And you’re always welcome back home.” 

 

Robin is a man of few words, something Owain did not inherit from him, so it touches his heart hearing such kindness. Home had always been a phrase thrown around within their group and it never held so much meaning as it did coming from his father’s mouth. Owain isn’t embarrassed by the tears that flood is vision, nor is he for throwing his arms around his father’s neck.

 

“Thank you, father,” Owain manages through hiccups. He feels his hug being returned, albeit hesitantly and he laughs wetly into his father’s cloak. 

 

Owain loves dreaming of this memory, it always ends perfectly and he wakes with a strange feeling of inner peace. He allows himself to hang on for as long as possible, to enjoy the moment. His father gently pushes him away, a grim expression on his face. 

 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

 

“Owain, please don’t forget who you are.” The words echo around his entire world and even though it was definitely Robin’s voice, Owain doesn’t remember ever seeing him speak. 

 

The grip Robin has on his arm tightens and Owain doesn’t remember ever feeling something so intense in a dream before. His brown eyes lock onto his and Owain feels like he’s falling despite not moving. 

 

Owain, 

do. not. forget.

 

Water is thrown on his face and he jolts awake so abruptly that he headbutts the young girl who had done it. He groans and rubs a hand on his forehead, closing his eyes and willing the headache away. The girl is on her backside, both hands covering her face and crying loudly. Owain instantly forgets his pain and attempts to get out of bed to aid her. The thin sheet covering his bottom half tangles around his ankles and causes him to half fall gracelessly off the bed and onto the stone floor.

 

“Ahh! Apologies young lady, are you hurt?” He asks frantically, only mildly frustrated at his current situation. 

 

The girl, blond and adorably cute, peeks between her fingers at him with big blue eyes. She takes her hands away from her tearless face and winks at him with a grin. 

 

“I knew you would wake up that way.” She giggles and Owain feels his eyebrow twitch. He does not like practical jokes, especially since his mother was so… generous with them. With a grunt, he rights himself and then offers a hand to help the girl up. She smiles again and places a dainty gloved hand in his and it’s only then that Owain realises how noble she looks. Her dress is similar to mother’s in a way, the same little bounce of fabric around the waist but it’s made out of incredibly expensive material. Owain knows because he remembers his mother whining about the dirt marks he’d left on her as a kid and how it would cost a fortune to replace. 

 

Even the glove in his hand is woven gorgeously. 

 

“Are you a friend of mother’s? I’m terribly sorry but I can’t recall your name,” Owain says and the girl’s grasp on his hand tightens suddenly. Her eyes widen and her mouth makes a comical O shape as she gasps. 

 

“Maybe you aren’t as well as you look! Did you hit your head?” She asks and reaches up to cup both of his cheeks. He would have blushed at their proximity had she not yanked his head from side to side trying to find some imaginary injury. 

 

“Hey - !” He starts but she abruptly freezes and touches his hair.

 

“Has your hair always been naturally white? Odin it’s gorgeous!” She says and pulls at his hair. Owain gently pushes her away, putting a large amount of space between the two of them before she discovers something else about him she finds interesting. 

 

“hmm, yes I see what the rift in our communication is now,” Owain begins. “You must be confusing me with someone else, for my name is not Odin, but Owain Dark. Master of the blade and vanquisher of darkness.” He whips his right hand up to cover half of his face in his trademark pose of mystery and power. 

 

The girl doesn’t say anything and stares at him. Owain assumes she’s taking in a moment to fully appreciate his name but his eye catches the window behind her and he frowns.

 

“Er, actually where am I?” He asks, gaze not leaving the strange house in a tree in the far distance or the unfamiliar faces wandering around doing various tasks. 

 

The girl takes a step forward, her whole demeanour changing to something serious and Owain looks back at her. 

 

“Um… Owain… how much do you remember?” She asks carefully. Owain remains quiet for a moment as he tries to figure out what exactly he did remember. Was he with Lucina yesterday? Or was that last week? His brain feels fried and he’s hit with a sudden bout of nausea. It feels like his memory is on the tip of his tongue, he can’t quite reach it but he knows it’s there.

 

“I’m not too sure,” he replies honestly and the girl nods, face sympathetic. She guides him to sit back on the bed and smiles comfortingly at him.

 

“Sorry I splashed water on you Owain. My name is Elise and I think that I might need to get my big brother to talk to you, but just take a seat and I’ll be right back ok?” She winks at him again and bounces out of the room before he has a chance to respond. Elise. Owain feels like he should know that name, that face and bubbly personality, but he comes up short. 

 

He huffs and looks around the small room as he waits. It looks like some sort of medical bay, with all the strange staffs leaning against the wall and various potions littering the shelves. There’s a pile of burnt clothes by the foot of the bed, bright yellow and…mesh? They can’t be Owain’s clothes, Owain is more for padded shoulders and wool lined material. 

 

It’s only then that he notices his state of undress and how he’s only wearing a sleeveless shirt and small cloth. Owain glances out the window quickly trying to avoid his embarrassment. 

 

He’s honestly not sure how he ended up here, he doesn’t recognise anyone or anything and the only thing he can assume is that he got injured and brought here. Where ever here was. 

 

There’s a book next to his bed and as he takes a closer look it turns out to be a tome. He remembers his father showing him how to use magic once the war was in full swing. Owain would have preferred that he learned when everything had settled down and there wasn’t the feeling of impending doom knocking on the door, but his father made the lessons fun and catered to his inexperience. He enjoyed magic, found the crackle along his skin to be intoxicating, but there was something about the blade that made him always go back.

 

Owain hopes that his legendary sword hadn’t got lost. He’d have to go back to where ever it was that he was found to get it back. 

 

The sound of hurried footsteps breaks through his thoughts and the door swings open with a bang. There’s a flash of grey and blue and he’s abruptly tackled in a bear hug he isn’t prepared for. 

 

“Odin thank goodness you’re ok I was worried sick.” The words tumble out of the man’s mouth almost too fast for Owain to catch, but he recognises the voice straight away.

 

“Inigo!” He gasps and hugs back. The first person that he recognises and he’s so grateful it’s him. His relief is short lived as Inigo straightens and pulls out of his grasp. He’s frowning, lips pursed and Owain feels like he’s done something wrong. That look is only reserved for ‘shut your mouth’ and Owain’s not too sure why it’s directed at him.

 

But there’s something off about Inigo as well. His hair is different, not the pastel pink he received from his mother, but a harsh silver. It’s longer too and it makes him look older despite his soft face. 

 

Two other people appear at the door, one being Elise and the other a taller teenager with blonde hair. Owain assumes that’s the older brother Elise was talking about by the familiar hair and royal air they both give off.

 

“Laslow, would you give us a minute?” The teenager asks, and Inigo turns to face him.

 

“Milord, if you don’t mind, I think I need to be here.” Inigo says and the teenager narrows his eyes at him. Owain’s not quite sure why Inigo is speaking on behalf of this Laslow, but there’s no one else in the room aside from them. 

 

He’s hit with sudden urge to play along.

 

“Yes, young man, I would prefer Laslow to stay since I’m a bit…” he tapers off when he receives looks of both bewilderment and shock. “a bit… er unsure as to what’s happening.”

 

“Young man?” The teenager parrots with disgust. Elise jumps and grabs onto his arm and the teenager looks down at her with mild irritation.

 

“See Leo, he doesn’t remember us!” She says and ‘Leo’ raises an eyebrow sceptically. 

 

“I see,” he says, but by his tone of voice Owain knows he’s not buying it. He feels a bit childish, sitting in nothing but a singlet and small cloth in front of Inigo and children whom he assumes is royalty. 

 

Leo huffs and takes his arm away from his sister. “Well, no matter. My name is Prince Leo, not young man. You refer to me as milord,” he begins and glances at Inigo for a moment before pinning his attention solely on Owain. “What exactly do you remember?”

 

Owain looks down at his hands in his lap and contemplates. Everything is too messed up in his head, it’s like one of Brady’s half-hazard stews with bits and pieces chucked in and missing. Nothing about this place is familiar. Not even Inigo is the same. 

 

He’s starting to wonder if he’s been thrown into an alternate universe like his sister was. 

 

“I don’t really remember anything per say. Just fragments of my childhood and of the war.” Owain says and looks up at Inigo for support. Inigo’s still frowning, lips still pursed, but it’s a totally different emotion being displayed than before. It’s almost like he’s trying to sort out a puzzle that’s right in front of him and Owain is slightly offended that he’s the puzzle. 

 

Leo’s eyebrows are knotted. He hums and takes a couple of steps closer so he’s not blocking the door. 

 

“So you remember nothing of being here?” Leo asks and Owain takes a moment to think about it before he nods. Leo huffs again but his features soften so he doesn’t look as annoyed. 

 

“This place we’re currently hiding in is called an astral plane. It’s like a pocket world that stops our enemies from finding us and allows us to rest and recuperate. We’re in a war at the moment against my father, the King of Nohr and he is using any means necessary to snuff us out,” Leo explains and only pauses briefly to let it sink in before continuing. 

 

“Which leads us to how you ended up here, in the med bay to be specific. You, myself and my other retainer, Niles, were on a mission to aid a destroyed town before my father’s troops attacked. You jumped in front of an attack meant for me and you’ve been unconscious since. Strangely you have no wounds aside from that mark on your arm that hasn’t gone away.”

 

Owain looks down at his left arm and notices the purple brand straight away. He’s not sure how he didn’t see it before, considering how brilliant it is and how it matches the exact placement of his other brand on the opposite arm. 

 

What chills him to his bone is the mark itself.

 

“No way.” He whispers and feels himself get into a cold sweat. Inigo leans over to get a proper look and gasps. 

 

“Grima,” They say in perfect unison before locking eyes. Owain remembers his father having the same mark on his hand and how he wore gloves to cover it up. It had never surfaced on both himself or his sister, a fact which made his father immeasurably happy. Owain wonders what he’d think now.

 

He looks back at the mark as leo leans over Inigo to take a look as well. 

 

“Grima?” He asks and Owain notices Inigo stiffen at the mention. 

 

“The bringer of evil from our homeland,” Inigo says darkly to which Owain grunts in agreement. The mark is harsh against his pale skin, a sickly purple and red and it makes the skin around it look raised and bruised. The brand on his other arm is not nearly as aggressive, just a darker tint of his natural colour. The contrast between the two is laughable and quite clearly shows the differing of nations.

 

Leo doesn’t say anything, Owain is grateful for it. He just straightens and with a look of curiosity, gives Owain a once over. 

 

“Your entire appearance has changed.” He says bluntly, arms crossed behind his back delicately. “White hair, younger face, different eye colour. I’d almost say you’re a different person altogether. Perhaps I was correct when we first me and you aren’t who you really say you are.” Leo muses. 

 

Inigo is quick to react and spins on his heals to face Leo. 

 

“Milord, before he says anything we’d regret, let me explain.” He says all too quickly and Leo gives him a regarding look before nodding his approval.

 

Inigo sighs and his shoulders drop fractionally but Owain knows he isn’t quite happy just yet. 

 

“I can’t really tell you the whole story because otherwise Selena would have my head.” Inigo laughs weakly and scratches the back of his neck. “But please let me speak to Odin for just a moment so we can straighten things out a bit. That brand was never meant to surface and if it has then I fear that that could mean even worse news.” 

 

Leo’s gaze, originally on Inigo, rests heavily on Owain. His eyes are calculating and Owain feels like he could shrink under the weight of it. 

 

“Five minutes.” He says finally and pulls Elise out of the room with him. Owain had forgotten she was there she’d been so quiet. 

 

Inigo lets his body fully relax this time and plonks himself down next to Owain on the bed. 

 

“He’s a tough one to convince. I felt like I was shaking in my boots.” Inigo says with a laugh and Owain breathes a laugh as well. From what little Owain knew of him, Leo looked to be rarely persuaded into doing something he didn’t want to do. 

 

Inigo’s eyes trail down to his arm again. His expression is masked as usual but Owain can see bits of fear leaking out. 

 

“What does this mean?” Inigo asks and drags his fingers across the mark gently. Owain is momentarily shocked at the intimate action and he feels goose bumps rise along his skin. “I thought when we defeated him and Robin returned without the mark that it was over. I guess he’ll never truly stop haunting us.” 

 

Inigo takes his hand away and looks straight ahead and out the window. Strangely, Owain misses the contact. 

 

“You really don’t remember why we’re here?” Inigo asks and Owain feels most of his energy drain from his body as he rests his back against the wall.

 

“I can’t remember any of it.” He replies dejectedly. “Do we have aliases? Is that why those two were calling me Odin?” 

 

Inigo joins him in leaning against the wall and laughs.

 

“Of course that’s what you latch onto.”

 

“I can’t help that my previous self thought of such an exciting name. Odin Dark. That sounds so cool.” Owain grins and he’s hit with new ideas and inspiration for his books. 

 

“You even became a dark mage.” Inigo adds as fuel to the fire. Owain’s eyes light up at just the thought of donning the mask of a mage. A mysterious figure, shrouded in darkness, a hidden and secret past no one knows about. No longer a hero, but an anti-hero, fuelled by his desire to avenge his previous life and smite those in his way. 

 

“I can hear your inner monologue you know.” Inigo quips and Owain freezes. 

 

“It’s just so cool.” He preens and Inigo laughs again. It’s nice to know that Inigo hasn’t changed as much as his appearance.

 

“In all seriousness, the fact that you lost your memory can’t get out ok. Or at least our past can’t.” Inigo says and Owain sobers up. 

 

“People here call you Odin and you’re lord Leo’s retainer. Don’t tell anyone what your name is because it’s not Owain ok? Same with me and Severa-“

 

“Severa’s here?” Owain interrupts and Inigo rolls his eyes.

 

“Yes, just let me finish. Severa is also here and our names are Laslow and Selena. Please don’t slip up and use the wrong name.” Inigo makes sure they have eye contact as he finishes, making his point clear. Owain nods and grins.

 

“Ok I won’t… Laslow.” The name feels strange on his tongue and Owain doesn’t really like it, but if it puts Inigo at ease, he’ll stick to it. 

 

His assumption is proven right as Inigo lets out a big sigh and lets himself droop against the wall. There’s a moment of silence before Inigo decides to continue talking. 

 

“As for the reason we’re here and how we got here is a bit of a long story, one that won’t really fit into five minutes. Long story short, we got asked by someone to save their world and the three of us agreed that since we seem to be in the business of fighting for freedom, that we could do it again.” Inigo pauses and gives Owain a meaningful look. It’s a mixture of something Owain can’t quiet figure out and it worries him.

 

“You also promised me that you wouldn’t get yourself killed for this war.” The quiet in the room hits hard and it’s chilling. He knows it’s an accusation, that Inigo is genuinely upset, but he doesn’t remember making the promise. It makes his stomach lurch.

 

Owain wonders what had made him take the shot meant for Leo after making such an important promise but Inigo cuts through his thoughts.

 

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it so there’s no point angsting over it. It’s in your blood to sacrifice yourself for others.” The way he says it isn’t harsh, but it hurts to hear anyway. Owain can’t help but feel guilt flood his chest. 

 

He opens his mouth to say something, what he wants to say he has no idea, but the door opens and Leo makes his presence known straight away. Owain doesn’t want Inigo to leave, not after that discussion, but it’s unavoidable. Inigo stands up and gives his shoulder a pat.

 

“I’ll come back later with Selena and we can get some lunch. Rest up.” He turns to bow to Leo before walking straight out the door and closing it behind him. Leo looks uncomfortable in the silence that resumes and Owain doesn’t blame him. 

 

“Milord, would you mind if I got some proper garments?” Owain asks to break the ice and gestures towards the burnt clothes that he has no hope of wearing ever again. Leo’s face heats up and he coughs awkwardly.

 

“Of course, I’ll have Felicia bring you something.” Silence falls again, but this time Leo deflates and seats himself in the wooden chair opposite Owain’s bed. It’s only on closer inspection that Owain can see darkened skin under his eyes possibly from lack of sleep, but he doesn’t know Leo or the situation well enough to voice anything so he shuts his mouth.

 

It reminds him of waking up in that field so long ago when he, Lucina and the rest of their group travelled back in time. He knew nothing and no one and had no idea where to even start looking for his comrades. It was incredibly lonely back then.

 

“You’re a lot more quiet without your memories.” Leo comments with a tired smile. Owain laughs and relaxes. 

 

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been to a whole new world.” He replies before realising his mistake and backtracks. “I mean, continent. It’s just not the first time I’ve woken up out of whack.” Leo just looks at him as if he’s trying to figure out a riddle.

 

“My father actually woke up in a field without any memories.” Owain adds, which makes Leo’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and Owain laughs.

 

“You’ve never mentioned your family.” He says, voice light with shock. Owain scratches the back of his neck and laughs humourlessly. 

 

“I’ve been told I’m not allowed to, otherwise I’d tell you all about my hero tactician father.” He says the last bit with so much pride and gusto that it makes Leo grin. His smile is small, but it’s not as put on as before and it makes him look younger.

 

“Your father was a tactician?” Leo asks curiously and Owain closes his eyes as he prepares to regale him with all sorts of praise for his father. 

 

“Yes, the best one I’ve ever met, for he awoke with no knowledge or memories but as soon as his hand touched magic he had instant skill. Such a powerful mage, and he wielded a sword like he’d done it his whole life. He made our enemies quiver in fear before him and he scoured the battlefield like he had a third eye, predicting their moves before they even thought about it.” Owain could go on forever about his father, but he knows there’s a point where it will be too much information, so he tapers down despite Leo’s interest.

 

“Sounds like he was an amazing man.” Leo says. It looks like Leo wants to push for more and Owain can see the urge flash across his eyes, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, his eyes rest on the marks on Owain’s arms and he frowns. “Laslow didn’t sound too pleased to see those. What are they?”

 

Owain isn’t too sure whether he should divulge the information, but part of him tells him that if he doesn’t then he’s damning himself to not receiving help. So he takes a deep breath and points to the mark on his right forearm.

 

“This one is a birthmark, one that runs in the family and distinguishes us from other people.” He says vaguely before pointing at the other mark.

 

“This… this mark my father once had. I’m not sure if it’s a birthmark or not because it’s never surfaced on me before. It’s the mark of an ancient evil dragon that destroyed my world. Continent.”

 

Leo hums thoughtfully and leans forward to take another look at Grima’s mark. 

 

“We have nothing like this in Nohr. The only tyrant here is Father and I doubt we’ll be inheriting a mark from him. It is strange though.” His eyebrows are furrowed, but he leans back in his chair and gets up.

 

“Anyhow, Elise didn’t see any wounds anywhere so it seems that aside from the issue of your memory you’re perfectly healthy. Are you fit to fight?” Owain looks up at and Leo’s smile is sly. “Unless I need to hire a new retainer?”

 

“Yes Milord, I’m bursting at the seems to be at your service!” Owain says excitedly.

 

“Gods I hope not.” Leo says with some degree of disgust and he turns to grasp the door handle. “I’ll send Felicia with some clothes and then you can have the day off until this evening. I expect to see you in my office after supper.” And with that, Leo leaves. 

 

Owain slumps into the bed and lays on his back, arms clumsily crossed over his stomach. He’s finally alone and all is quiet aside from the hustle and bustle outside. The shock from the morning’s events hits him like a brick wall and he’s left wondering what exactly had happened to him. He doesn’t even remember jumping worlds, let alone taking a killing hit for Leo.

 

Perhaps he really had switched realities and ‘Odin’ was back in his world. That seemed the most plausible but then again it seemed to run in the family to lose memories. First his father, then his sister and now him. Father would not only be horrified at the loss of memories but even more so at the ugly garish mark on his arm. 

 

Owain raises his left arm above his head and takes a closer look. The colours are a swirl of deep purple and red and Owain hates it. His brand of the Exalt is his pride and joy, a comforting reminder that he was from a family of heroes and that no matter what, he always had Naga on his side. This other mark is like a beacon of evil, calling out to everyone around that he has Grima’s blood flowing through his veins and that he was born with a purpose to be a puppet.

 

Mother had told him that Father had been thrilled to bits when he was born with only the Brand. 

 

He lets his arm rest on his stomach again and closes his eyes. He misses his parents and comrades and he’s suddenly desperate to see Inigo again. Owain hopes it isn’t too long until lunch.

 

The door slams open again and a maid trips on the door frame, dropping a tray with a glass of water on it along with what Owain assumes is his change of clothes. The maid is sputtering apologies and looks on the brink of tears as Owain leaps up to help her.

 

“I-I’m so sorry Odin I know you’re injured and I just, I’m a terrible maid an-“ She flusters, face in her hands.

 

“Not to worry! The cup’s not broken, see?” Owain says and picks up the cup showing the maid the lack of cracks.

 

“But I shouldn’t be so clumsy,” she tries again but Owain silences her again with the flourish of his hand covering half of his face. 

 

“Madam, the fact that you brought humble Owa-Odin Dark his dark garments is enough to quell this rapidly growing drama from continuing.” He says to which the maid just looks at him blankly. “I mean thank you for bringing me some clothes.”

 

Her face lights up and she smiles brightly. “You’re very kind Odin, thank you.” 

 

“Of course, anything for such a thoughtful maid.” Owain replies with a grin and he reaches out to grab his clothes before having his hand gently taken away. Owain looks at the maid in confusion but her face is like a mirror image of his. He laughs nervously, and looks to the side.

 

“Your hair is white.” She says abruptly and throws her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry I’m sorry it’s just that it’s so shocking.” Owain isn’t quite sure how to respond so he sits back on his heels. 

 

“Do you not like it?” Owain asks, hopefully derailing whatever train of thought she was having. 

 

“Nononono it looks lovely I promise!” She bundles up his clothes and shoves them into his chest. “I’m sorry I just came to drop these off and I’ve cause such a scene.” 

 

Owain laughs and puts his hand on her shoulder placatingly. “Like I said, thank you.” He says and gives her a friendly smile. She blushes and smiles back and it suits her, being happy that is.

 

“Ok I’m going to go. Thank you for being so nice Odin, I know I’m a bit of a mess.” She says as she stands and pats down her skirt. It’s awkward for a moment as she stands there staring at him and Owain clears his throat. She starts and bows, muttering under her breath and scolding herself as she finally leaves.

 

Owain feels exhausted and he’s only been awake for an hour. He unwraps his pile of clothes and hums and the simplicity. Despite being a lover of excess detail and flair, Owain always did have a soft spot for common wear. It’s a blue tunic, not unlike something Inigo would wear but more Owain’s size and a pair of brown pants. There’s a leather belt and fingerless gloves.

 

Owain smiles softly at the gloves. They’re long, brown and go up to about his elbow, helpfully covering his marks. Leo was incredibly thoughtful, no wonder Owain served him. Or Odin. It’s too confusing to think about so he just shoves it to the back of his head to deal with later. 

 

Once his clothes are on and he’s found the boots by his bed, Owain decides that he really really wants to go exploring. The astral plane sounded so exciting, a bubble parallel universe or whatever it was. Owain is always a sucker for discovering something new and he can feel the excitement crackle through him. 

 

It turns out that the medical bay is not connected to any other buildings and sits humbly next to a field of wheat. As Owain scans the horizon, it turns out that there’s a whole array of different farming areas, all with different products. To the right, there’s more buildings that look more like tiny houses than anything else, but Owain’s eye catches the massive tree with a house in it. 

 

A tree with a house! That was just begging to be explored. 

 

Owain sneaks through the wheat field, feet lightly crunching the drier crops. His father had sighed the last time Owain had tried to do a sneak attack. Apparently, he was bad at it. 

 

The sun was pleasantly warm on his back and the breeze was just enough to play off as the cause of the wheat swaying rather than Owain’s sneaking. He wasn’t too sure why he was hiding, he supposed it was simply because he didn’t know anyone. It would have felt wrong to walk around like he owned the place when he had no memory of it. 

 

The field abruptly ends and there’s a large expanse of stone circling the house tree. That was going to be trouble getting across and not being seen. 

 

It was going to have to be a brisk walk and a prayer that no one was looking. 

 

Looking both ways, Owain takes a step out of the field and onto the stone. He feels exposed and he quickens his pace. The house tree is just within grasp, only a few more steps.

 

“My my, only been awake for less than half a day and you’re already up to mischief. May I ask what business you have with the young prince at this hour?” The voice is deep and it stops Owain dead in his place. 

 

Darn, so close.

 

He spins slowly on the spot and finds himself looking at a man with soft white hair, an eye-patch and a smug smirk. He gives off a dangerous vibe and it puts Owain on edge. 

 

“Hmm white hair. We’re matching, how cute.” His smile is like a predator and Owain takes a step back.

 

“Er, can I help you?” Owain asks and the man raises an eyebrow, leaning heavily on his right foot. Owain doesn’t like him. 

 

“Not really. Just checking up on my partner.” He says and it’s then that Owain realises that he must be Leo’s other retainer, Niles. Perhaps he’s not so bad then.

 

“How kind, my partner in crime and darkness. That’s just like you to be concerned about a fellow comrade.” Owain says with renewed confidence. It doesn’t work though, maybe-Niles’ face drops its smirk and Owain knows he’s said the wrong thing. His one blue eye locks onto him and Owain feels cornered.

 

“Odin!” The voice rings loudly around the clearing, but both Niles and Owain don’t budge. Owain feels like the staring match has dramatically turned into some sort of competition and he only looks over at Inigo’s irritated face once he’s standing right next to him.

 

“Didn’t I tell you I’d come get you for lunch? What are you doing up?” Inigo nags, ignoring the heavy atmosphere. Niles glances over at Inigo, his original calculating expression switched to a crooked smirk. 

 

“Sorry Laslow, but my sword hand couldn’t bare being cooped up.” Owain replies. Inigo’s annoyance doesn’t let up as he directs his attention to Niles. 

 

“Good morning Niles.” He says curtly which only makes Niles chuckle and cross his arms.

 

“Laslow.” Niles all but purrs. It causes Inigo to blush and clear his throat, averting his gaze. “Still so easy to rile up I see.”

 

“Yes well we have somewhere to be, so excuse us.” Laslow says but his voice cracks a bit. Owain doesn’t really know how to react to the scene in front of him so he lets Inigo drag him away. He looks back over his shoulder and he sees Niles staring back at him. It’s unnerving and it’s full of suspicion. Owain shivers as he turns back to face Inigo.

 

“Gods, I’m so glad sometimes that Peri is my partner rather than him. I don’t know how you stand him.” Laslow mutters. 

 

“Me either.” Owain agrees and frowns. His thoughts drift back to the look Niles gave him and it worries him. If Niles could figure out that there was something wrong with him then wouldn’t everyone? It scares him that the security of his world was depending on how well he could sell himself as being Odin rather than Owain. He’s not quite sure where the line was drawn between the two, he doesn’t even know anything about Odin.

 

Owain keeps these thoughts to himself as Inigo continues to grouch, it’s comforting to hear his friends voice even if he too was slightly different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...well i sort of lied when i said i'd update regularly. Im actually so sorry, life and work and everything is happening all at once atm but i didn't want to keep you waiting any longer. This chapter has not been beta read/edited bc my beta is currently busy sorting out uni crap so once she's dealt with that, I'll re-upload. 
> 
> Until then, I hope you enjoyed the chap and i pinky promise i wont keep you waiting longer for the next one. 
> 
> Also, thank you so much to everyone that commented on chap 1. Comments, although not necessary, do keep me motivated! 
> 
> hmu on tumbler @demsetry if ya wanna to chat or check on my progress >:)

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey I plan to update quite regularly so stay with me now.
> 
> Just a quick thank to my beta reader @rincentric on tumblr for making me more literate. 
> 
> I might post updates on my blog too if you wanna hmu @demsetry or just say hi


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